New Beginnings
by LetItRain25
Summary: Gratuitous Jack McClane whump. Also, accidental John McClane and Matt Farrell fluff. Jack comes back from a mission battered and bruised, but the mission isn't quite done yet and it's up to John and Matt to help him.


New Beginnings

By LetItRain25

Notes: I meant for this to be a quick one-shot….clearly that did not happen. Also, this is one of those fics that I wrote because there wasn't a lot of Jack McClane going on in the fandom, and I felt like someone should correct that. This fic has super minor violence, some relatively mild language, and more fluff between John and Matt than I intended. Takes place about 2 years after A Good Day to Die Hard, and John and Matt are married. Thank you for reading!

Jack sighs as he stands on the stoop. He looks around, ensuring that he's not garnering too much attention, before he turns another forlorn look at the door. Sighing again, he hangs his head and makes his way up the steps to stand directly in front of the door. He decides this is better because now at least he can lean on the door.

It's raining, and it's the middle of the day. He knows that John and Matt are gone because he patiently waited outside for both of their cars to leave. It may be a coward's move, but he's just not up for conversation yet.

He closes his eyes, pushing himself away from the door, as he puts the key in the door. He had assumed that there would be a pretty intense security system, but apparently John hated them and wouldn't let Matt install one. Something about having to disarm the thing seemed to really irritate John. At this moment, Jack was excessively appreciative of that fact.

Jack enters cautiously. He knows no one is there, but years of training have taught him to always enter cautiously; always assess before moving forward. This also allows him time to survey the space. Virtually nothing has changed since the last time he was here, which is convenient. He takes a few steps in, setting his duffle bag at one end of the couch. He pauses, every muscle in his body telling him to just lay down now and deal with everything else later, but he knows from experience not to listen.

Instead, he takes his jacket off and hangs it up by the door. He peaks his head into the kitchen, spotting a bowl of fruit on the counter. He doesn't really like bananas, but they're the fastest and easiest to consume and it doesn't take very long before he's throwing the peel away. His last stop is the bathroom. Aside from an urgent need to empty his bladder, he also takes the time to review his injuries. Making sure that all of his stitches are in place and no bandages need to be fixed, he finishes by washing his hands and heading back to the couch.

It feels like his whole body sighs as he sinks into the couch. It's not even that comfortable of a couch, and Jack realizes belatedly that he's probably getting it all wet. With a herculean amount of effort, Jack pushes himself off of the couch, toeing off his boots and shrugging off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in nothing but boxer briefs as he collapses back on the couch. He tugs his gun out of the holster attached to his jeans, sliding the gun under the throw pillow on the couch. There's a blanket draped across the top of the couch, which he tugs down to cover him.

Standing outside waiting for John and Matt to leave, Jack hadn't noticed the cold, but now he burrows into the blanket as he feels the cold seep to his bones. He's asleep before he realizes it.

DHDHDHDH

"There was nothing wrong with that place!" Matt exclaims as he and John climb out of their car.

"Of course not. If you don't mind all the staff wearing those ridiculous hats," John responds with a mischievous smirk.

"For the last time, they're called beanies, and – uh, John?" Matt says, switching from playful to concerned almost immediately.

Matt has his hand on the door handle, twisting it repeatedly as if doing so will suddenly switch it from unlocked to locked because it is definitely supposed to be in the locked position.

John can feel the anxiety coming off of Matt. "Ok, just step back," he says, lightly tugging Matt behind him.

"Wait here," John says as he pulls his service weapon out of its holster, tapping the door open before stepping through.

He quietly steps through the entranceway, not noticing anything askew. He takes a breath, doing one last check before turning to face the living room.

He huffs as he realizes he can see a familiar mop of hair on the couch. He shakes his head, quietly chuckling as he holsters his weapon. His relief is short-lived, though. He looks up to see a bleary-eyed Jack pointing a gun at him.

"Woah, woah, woah," John says, hands out as he indicates for Jack to lower the weapon.

Jack blinks groggily, hand wavering as he struggles to wake up, irritated that he's allowed himself to be caught off guard. It's a rookie mistake that he can't afford to make.

"Jack," John says as he slowly approaches the man. "Jack, it's just me, ok?"

Hearing John speak, Matt whips his head towards the door from where's pacing on the front stoop. He peaks in through the front door, but he's only able to see John.

"Jack, let's put the gun down," he hears John say. He didn't know Jack was going to come over, and now Jack's pointing guns?! John's tone is gentle; more like he's speaking to a much younger Jack and trying to convince him that it's nap time.

Jack blinks again as his vision finally clears. "Dad?" he asks softly, as things start to slowly fall into place. He lowers his hand, bringing it up to rub his eyes instead. John takes the moment to step forward and remove the weapon from a startled Jack.

"Don't take this the wrong way or nothin', but what're you doing here, kid?" John asks, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of the couch. He looks around, noting Jack's discarded clothes and duffel bag. Jack has his eyes closed, more asleep than awake.

"John?" Matt calls from the door.

"Yeah, we're good," John assures as Matt steps into the living room. Jack squirms as he hears another voice.

"Why don't you, uh give us a minute?" John asks Matt.

"Sure, yeah, of course, I'll uh, just be, you know over here," Matt rambles, tripping on his way into the kitchen. It's not actually out of the way since he can see everything that's going on, but it seems to be enough to calm Jack and it makes John smile.

John turns his attention back to his son, noting that the younger man has lost weight. He looks exhausted even as he sleeps and there are bruises covering every inch that John can see. He had seen a bandage taped somewhere on Jack's torso, but it's since been covered back up by the blanket.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" John asks rhetorically, as he scrubs tired hands over his face.

"Spy shit," Jack murmurs earning a bark of laughter from John.

"Spy shit," John agrees, standing up. "Good night, kid" he whispers, pulling the blanket up around Jack.

John walks into the kitchen where Matt is giving him an incredulous look. "What?" John asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.

"Spy shit?! That's it?" Matt says as he starts to pace. "I mean, what am I supposed to do with that? I guess I could hack the C.I.A. or something, but they really frown on that now that I'm at the N.S.A. and I don't even really know what I'm looking for, not that I can't do it, but-" Matt explains, thinking out loud.

"Hey, hey, hey," John says, managing to corral Matt into a hug. "Look, the kid's exhausted; can't even keep his eyes open, so I don't feel like he'd be a particularly reliable witness at the moment," John explains calmly. "But, I'm pretty sure he'll still be here in the morning, and we can get aaaallll the details then. But until then, why don't you and I head to bed, so that we can be ready for tomorrow, ok?" John asks, and Matt can't help but be irritated with how irrationally calm John is being.

"He pointed a gun at you," Matt counters.

"He's tired," John shrugs.

"He's tired?! You have got to be kidding me," Matt responds, hanging his head in frustration.

"Look, when you've been doing this job for a while, you figure out that it pays to be jumpy. I know that and I'm a cop with a partner on American soil. I don't imagine that it's easier when you're in the C.I.A. with no one who has your back, ok?" John clarifies.

Matt nods as he processes the information, "That actually makes some sense."

"Wow. Thank you for that strong vote of confidence," John replies, smiling as he sees Matt starting to accept the situation.

"Any time," Matt answers, smiling himself. "Do you want to offer him the guest bedroom?"

"I thought that was the computer room?" John counters, throwing an arm around Matt and guiding them to the bedroom.

"Hey!" Matt whisper-yells indignantly, "There is a bed in there, thank you very much."

"Yeah, and if you can manage to uncover it, it could even be useable," John continues.

"Well, if I was allowed to put my _work_ things in the living room-" Matt replies smugly.

"Nope. Nuh uh. No way. Let it go," John responds fondly.

DHDHDHDH

John is the first one up, which is not at all surprising. Matt generally prefers to be a night-owl, and even if he's not up late, he tends to sleep in.

John stops to check on Jack, worried that Jack seems to look worse than he did last night. The blanket was kicked off at some point and John picks it up, laying it on top of Jack and smoothing back the man's hair. Jack feels cool to the touch, but when he turns his head into John's hand the older man smiles sadly, realizing that this is the first time in 2 years that he's actually been able to touch Jack at all.

John straightens out, walking slowly as his joints catch up to the rest of him. He heads straight for the coffee maker, filling up the filter and making a full pot. He looks around the kitchen, deciding what to do for breakfast. Usually he would make eggs, but he doesn't want to disturb Jack, so instead he settles for toast.

He's just about to finish reading the paper at the dining room table when he hears a knock at the door. He notes that Jack doesn't stir as he passes to get the door, which he supposes is a good thing. He'd taken the gun away last night, but dealing with a startled C.I.A. agent does not sound like a great way to start the day.

"Can I help you?" John asks, not opening the door all the way.

"Uh, yes, I was looking for Jack?" the man responds. The man is in a white collared shirt with black business pants, and Jack identifies "CIA" nearly instantly.

"He's-" John starts before being interrupted.

"Rick," Jack greets, subtly maneuvering himself to be between John and the agent.

"Unbelievable," John mutters. He shrugs and takes a step back when Jack throws a glare at him. How the kid even managed to get dressed that quickly is beyond John.

"Jack! The brass wanted to do this all official but Bill said you'd hate that," Rick explains with a smile, handing a black box to Jack.

Jack holds the box, lightly skimming his fingers over it but never attempting to open it even as John tries to peak over his shoulder to see what it is.

"You did good work, Jack," Rick says in all sincerity.

"Not everyone will see it that way," Jack says, turning calculating eyes to the man.

"They never do," Rick shrugs with a tight smile. "Enjoy the time with your family," he says, nodding towards John. "We'll be in touch."

Jack closes the door, and if John notices the way he leans on it he doesn't mention anything.

Jack turns, heading towards the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He's still stiff and sore and exhausted. His side is on fire, and his foot is killing him. Not to mention his hand….and his throat. Really he hurts all over, but the coffee is warm and soothing and the apartment feels like safety.

The last thought forces him to hide a frown in his coffee cup.

"What's this?" John asks, picking up the box that Jack had carelessly discarded on the counter. He opens the box, finding a shiny medal that he's sure probably means something in C.I.A.-speak.

"A commendation," Jack responds.

"Is this uh commendation the reason you're beat to hell and sleeping on my couch?" John counters, setting the box back on the counter.

Jack turns away, still not ready for this conversation. Truthfully, coming to John's hadn't been his brightest plan. He had just gotten back to the states, and the doctor expected him to have somewhere to go. He had considered a hotel, but then there would be no one to watch his back. He could have gone to Lucy's but there was no way she wouldn't demand explanations immediately. He could have gone to mom's but then her husband would be there….John was both his last and only resort. John met the qualifications of being capable at defending them in case of, well anything. He wasn't big on chatting. He wouldn't immediately panic. John had been the practical choice.

To some part of Jack, though, it just felt like he was a scared kid running home to his father.

This was particularly annoying because even when he was a scared kid, his father hadn't been around for him to run to. He had grown up with his mother in L.A. while John stayed in Brooklyn. That would've been quite the run.

After everything that had happened in Russia, Jack had about 24 hours where he had thought they could be family again. They all had dinner together. He saw how well Lucy got along with Matt, and how happy Matt made John, and how easily Lucy and John could talk. It had been a surreal moment when he realized that he was never going to have that.

He was still too mad to have that. Lucy had left him with his mom and her husband Jim. John had never left him, but only because he was never there to begin with. Hell, Jack hadn't even known that John and Matt had been married. No one had bothered calling him or talking to him. It was clear to him that Lucy and John had resolved their issues, which was fantastic; Jack was genuinely happy for them. He just couldn't do that yet. There were too many issues and one weird, crazy weekend wasn't going to change all of that. Hell, Jack barely spoke with Lucy, let alone John.

He had taken an assignment about a week later. That was two years ago.

"Jack?" John asks when he gets no answer, pulling Jack back to the moment.

"It's a little more complicated than that, but yes," Jack confirms.

"And….Was this all spy shit, or was there more to it?" John asks. Jack can't help but think that this is the politest investigation that he's ever had.

"I was in South America. There were bad guys. We caught the bad guys," Jack answers succinctly.

"And why won't everyone see it that way?" John continues.

Jack pauses, trying to think of a way to explain his cluster of a mission, "Because 'bad guys' is kind of a loose term."

"Doesn't seem that loose," John prods.

"Ok. Then maybe because 'good guys' is kind of a loose term," Jack responds, voice hard as he tries to warn John off this line of questioning.

John sighs, "You had a mole."

Jack isn't even surprised that John put that together. " _Had_ being the key word," he confirms.

"Did you find the mole?" John continues, undeterred.

Jack huffs, turning away to refill his coffee cup. "Eventually," Jack answers as he heads back to the couch.

Seeing John's look, Jack continues, "I was working case in South America. Cartels. Turns out there was an Interpol officer there that was on the take. He was working with one of the guys on my team."

"So did you get the cartel?" John asks, feeling like he's following Jack around like a lost puppy.

"The cartel and the agent were both taken care of. It was just done a little bit more your style than mine," Jack clarifies.

"Like Russia?" John continues, noting the stiff way Jack leans back on the couch as he takes his own seat in a recliner.

"Worse," Jack chuckles. He leans back in the couch and has to stop himself from groaning in relief.

"You al-" John starts to ask before his door is thrown wide open. John and Jack both jump to their feet, Jack doing so with a definite wince.

"You son of a bitch!" a man yells, getting straight in Jack's face. "He was my partner!" he continues, grabbing Jack by the shirt. "Or are you too good for those, huh?" the man asks, physically lifting Jack and slamming him into a wall.

"Hey!" John yells, stepping into the fray. "What the hell is going on here?" he demands, trying to intervene.

"Yeah, Jack. Let's tell your dad about how this is the third team member you've gotten killed," the man rants, chucking Jack to the ground like he's nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

Jack lands, rolling with the impact. He's on all fours, one arm out instinctively as he vainly dries to catch his breath. "Mike," Jack coughs out.

"He was your friend!" Mike yells, getting in a hard kick to Jack's midsection.

"Hey!" John shouts. Mike pulls his foot back for another kick, and this time it's Mike that gets hauled into the wall. "I don't know who the fuck you are, and I don't give a shit. This is my house and that's my boy, and you are _so_ under arrest," John growls, stepping back smugly as he points his service weapon at Mike.

"Uh, John?" Matt asks tentatively from the hallway.

"Grab my cuffs," John tells him, concerned that Jack hasn't moved.

Jack leans forward, resting his head on his arm even as he stays on all fours on the ground. He doesn't know if falling into a puddle on the floor would hurt more or less, and that's the only question keeping him where he's at.

"Here," Matt says, handing the cuffs to his husband.

Mike laughs, "What? You think you're tough 'cause your LAPD? You can't arrest me; I'll be out in under an hour."

"Actually, I think the fact that you broke into the home of an LAPD officer and an NSA agent, so that you could attack a CIA agent pretty much overrides that," Matt answers before John gets the chance.

"No," Jack whispers from the floor. "Let him go," he says quietly.

John and Matt share a look, knowing that both Mike and Jack may be right, but that doesn't mean they have to be happy about it.

"I have your name and your agency, and that's basically all I need to tear your world to pieces," Matt snarls, stepping closer to the man. Usually this would be John's game, but Matt was already on edge from Jack being here, and then he walks out to see this man threatening his husband and his family, and any remaining calm he had ran out the window.

"You come back to my house, the only thing you're getting is a bullet to the brain, got it?" John clarifies.

Mike nods, recognizing for the first time that he may be slightly out of his depth.

"Good," John says brightly, stepping back just enough to get full leverage in his swing as he punches Mike hard in the face. "Now get the fuck out of my house."

Mike rubs his jaw, seeing stars from the hit as he stumbles his way out.

"Tear your world to pieces?" John asks, smiling at Matt.

"Oh like you're the only one who gets to threaten people now? Is there coffee? There better be coffee," Matt grumbles as he heads to the kitchen. He hadn't even been awake for five minutes and they've already had to kick someone out.

John smiles, fighting down the urge to ask what would happen if there wasn't coffee. Seeing Matt threaten a CIA agent had been surprising and not at all unpleasant in the land of John McClane.

"You good?" John ask, turning his attention back to where Jack was still on the floor. He crouches down when a breathy wheeze is Jack's only reply.

"Jack? Talk to me, what's going on?" he asks. He takes a knee on one side of Jack, taking some of the younger man's weight and allowing him to collapse onto John.

Jack is breathing heavily, leaning back against John's chest, his eyes squeezed tightly shut in response to the pain the movement sparked. He tucks his head under John's chin, riding out a fresh wave of agony.

Matt comes in to see John offering quiet words of comfort and soothing back Jack's hair as he waits for the younger man to get himself under control.

Jack relaxes into the comfort being offered. He's spent two years in a foreign country where even his own guys weren't thrilled to be working with him. He would be embarrassed about the fact that he's turning into putty at John's ministrations if he wasn't so exhausted.

"Can you stand?" John mutters, when he feels Jack's breathing start to even out.

"Should we take him to a hospital?" Matt asks as he leans against the doorframe.

"No 'spital," Jack mutters, muscles tensing as he preps himself to stand.

John shrugs Matt's direction in response. "You bleeding anywhere important?" he asks Jack.

"Jus' tired," Jack answers, earning a wry chuckle from John.

"Nice try. Where are you hurt?" John questions.

"Bruised ribs, bruised everything. Couple'a'cuts," Jack responds tiredly.

"Cuts or stabs?" Matt asks, years of experience with John having taught him what questions were important.

Jack isn't sure if he wants to be annoyed at the question, or at the fact that it's Matt asking them, but in either case he can't seem to muster up the energy. "Cuts," he clarifies and Matt finds himself smiling.

"What?" John mouths at Matt, but Matt just waves him off. Apparently John's hatred of hospitals is a family trait, which means that regardless of how injured a McClane says they are, it's always important to do an independent injury evaluation. He doesn't even bother asking John how he feels anymore, and he should have known the same would be true with Jack.

"Let's get him on the couch," Matt says instead, coming around to Jack's side to help take some of the weight off of John. John slides out from behind Jack, taking his other side and the two of them haul him up. Jack groans, thankful that John and Matt are both there when his legs give out from under him.

"Woah, stay with us. We're right here man, just another second," Matt mumbles as they lower Jack on to the couch as gently as possible.

"John, can you go grab the first aid kit?" Matt asks, voice businesslike as he turns to his patient.

The thing is, Jack doesn't mean to send John a panicked look. He certainly doesn't mean for the look to say anything about his opinion of Matt. It's just that Jack has spent a very long time with very few people who care, and the idea of a semi-stranger being his caregiver is worse than an actual stranger being his caregiver.

John sees Jack's look. He gets that Jack is silently pleading with him to take the lead on this one, and John understands that better than most. He also knows, though, that Matt is better at this than him. Regardless of what Jack may think, John wants to make sure he's ok, and Matt happens to be the better qualified in that regard.

Matt had quickly grown accustomed to life with an injury-prone John, but part of that is because Matt was riddled with anxiety every time John came home injured. So, he did the logical thing, and he took an EMT course, which turned into another course, which is why he's now a certified paramedic.

Jack doesn't know any of that, though, and it doesn't make him feel better when John says, "Be right back, kid."

Matt goes to lift Jack's shirt, and Jack instinctively grips his wrist.

"Jack, I need to see your injuries, ok?" Matt asks, voice calm even as the rest of him wants to freak out.

"S'rry," Jack mutters, willing his hand to let go. It isn't that Jack dislikes Matt as much as it is that he's only met the guy once and therefore hasn't exactly had time to associate him as family just yet.

"I thought we agreed to put it in the bathroom under the sink!" John yells, tone indicating that they've had this argument before.

"We did, but we also agreed you had to fix the leak there first!" Matt responds. "Check the closet."

John mutters a curse as he turns to the hallway to grab the kit.

"Got it," he says, setting the kit on the table.

"Now a bowl of water," Matt tells John, who rolls his eyes but heads dutifully to the kitchen.

Matt, now granted permission, runs his hands up Jack's torso, looking for signs of swelling, tenderness, or stiffness.

"Jesus," he says, sucking in air at the sight of Jack's torso. Matt had known there were bruises, but now he can see the patterns. He can see the ligatures around Jack's wrists, the hand print around the neck, and the burn marks covering his torso.

Jack can feel Matt's cold hands skimming across his rib cage, and he can hear John turning water on in the kitchen, and he can smell the Febreeze that was sprayed on the couch, but it all feels miles away. He feels like he's swimming underwater and everything else is just muffled sound. He turns his head, trying to follow the sound of Matt's voice. Jack blinks rapidly, noting the darkness encroaching on his vision. He tries to speak, but Matt presses down on a rib and that's the last thing he remembers.

John comes back into the living room, setting the bowl on the table next to his husband and taking a seat on the armrest by Jack's head.

"What are the burns?" John asks, gesturing to the marks covering his son's torso.

Matt sighs, dunking gauze into the bowl of water before swapping it out with a dry one on Jack's chest. "Best guess? See these marks?" he asks, pointing to the white burn scars.

John nods in response, softly hushing Jack when the younger man moans in response to the gauze change.

"Looks like phosphorous. White phosphorous," Matt answers quietly.

John is silent, scratching a hand through Jack's hair, "And the water on the gauze, that's to uh-"

"Flush it out, yeah," Matt confirms.

"Last one," he says, reaching for the gauze. Jack is laying on the couch, and John has to turn him slightly so Matt is able to reach the bandage. The younger man whimpers when the gauze tugs on his skin.

"It's ok, shh, I got ya, it's ok," John assures as Matt whispers a litany of "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

Matt presses the gauze down, wrapping it with a piece of dry gauze to keep it in place.

Matt and John sit in silence when they finish the first aid treatment.

"So," Matt starts.

"So," John agrees.

"Are you going to talk to him about it now, or do we have to wait until the next guy bursts through our door?" Matt taunts.

John rolls his eyes, glaring at his husband. "You know that's not fair."

Matt sighs, standing up to pace the living room. John watches him for a moment before shrugging and moving into the seat that Matt just abandoned. "I know," Matt agrees, "But…John, I mean, what the hell?"

Now it's John's turn to be frustrated.

"Look I – I don't know, alright?" he answers helplessly.

"Have you even heard from him since Russia?" Matt asks.

Matt had known that John McClane has two kids for nearly as long as Matt had known John McClane. Matt and Lucy had bonded during the fire sale, and eventually she and John had been able to mend their relationship.

Alternatively, Matt had heard so little about Jack that he wasn't even sure if he was allowed to bring up the other man's existence. While Lucy had been in their wedding, Jack hadn't even arrived as a guest. Matt had seriously considered tracking Jack down using his N.S.A. contacts, but he knew John would see that as a serious breach of privacy. So, he had done the next best thing: He'd asked Lucy.

Apparently Lucy had moved out to live with John when she was a pre-teen. Per the custody agreement, the kids got to choose which parent they spent the majority of the time with. Lucy thought New York was cool, and her mother was getting remarried, so in a fit of rebellion she had stated that she was moving to NYC. Jack had opted to stay in California. She said that they had just fallen out of touch. She was a few years older than Jack, and she was being a New York teen and she just hadn't talked to Jack all that often. Even when she did try to talk to him, she said Jack never seemed interested in talking to her.

"No," John answers, drawing Matt back to the conversation. "He said he had another job and it would be a while," John shrugs.

Lucy moving had a profound impact on Jack. Lucy leaving meant that Jack had no one to commiserate with. When Holly married Jim, Lucy hadn't liked it because she thought that Holly was trying to replace John. Jack had been mad with Lucy, because as far as he was concerned there was nothing to replace so what could there be to be upset about? When Jim was dating Holly things had been fairly normal. It wasn't until after Jim married Holly that there were problems. Jim was a real estate agent and he had suffered in the housing crash. He went from A-List agent to unemployed alcoholic impossibly quickly. They were still doing exceptionally well financially, but Jim didn't like having to rely on Holly and so he had punished both her and Jack accordingly.

Jack never could decide if Holly was just too scared to tell John, or too tired. Some part of Jack had always been mad: John is lauded as one of NYPD's finest but he doesn't know that his own ex-wife spends her mornings concealing bruises? In either case, as Jack got older he started to be more vocal, which wasn't well-received. Suddenly Holly wasn't the only one covering bruises.

He and his mom were close, bonded over circumstance, but even that relationship became strained as Jack grew more frustrated. By the time he was halfway through high school Jack had made it his goal to never be at home. He blamed Jim for being an asshole, and he blamed Holly for staying with Jim, and Lucy for leaving Jack, and John for not even bothering to figure it out. Mostly, though, it didn't take him long to deduce that he was the common denominator. Lucy and John got along. John and Holly tolerated one another. Holly stayed with Jim. Even John tried to be respectful of Jim. The only problem was Jack. Needless to say, when the C.I.A. offered to train him and educate him, he jumped at the opportunity. The fact that he wouldn't have contact with his family was just icing on the cake.

"So now what?" Matt sighs, sitting so close to John he's basically on his lap. He sinks into the chair comfortably, feeling the older man wrap his arms around Matt's waist.

"D'd," Jack mumbles.

"Yeah, kid?" John asks, attempting to remain calm as he sees the way Jack is struggling. He rearranges himself so he can lean forward to reach his son without also squishing his husband.

"Bait," Jack mutters, wincing as he tries to sit up.

"Did he just say 'bait'?" Matt asks, looking to John for confirmation.

"What the hell're you talkin' about Jack?" John asks.

"Partn'rs. Bait," Jack tries again, wheezing.

"Shit," Matt mumbles, indicating John to lean Jack forward.

"Matty?" John asks, sounding scared for the first time as he holds Jack upright enough for Matt to check him over.

"I don't feel anything out of place. Most likely it's just a bruised lung, but it'd be easier to check that out if we could get him to a hospital," Matt says, trying to convince Jack to go to the hospital.

Jack shakes his head, frustrated that they aren't understanding. This is why he should have just gone to a hotel. If someone got the drop on him in this position, he'd be screwed though.

"Mole," Jack tries again.

John stares at Jack as the pieces fall into place.

"What?" Matt asks, turning to John. "John, what's he talking about?"

"Are you telling me, that you came to my home, where I live with my husband, where your sister could have been, and you didn't think to warn me?!" John shouts.

Matt may not know exactly what's going on, but he does know that yelling is not what Jack needs right now. That's confirmed when Jack tries to pull away from John, wincing at both the action and the tone.

"John," Matt starts, trying to calm his husband down.

"No," John responds to Matt before directing his attention back to his son. John stands, which forces Jack to collapse back to the couch. He starts pacing, before turning to Jack, "How could you not tell me?! This is un-fucking-believable, even for you-"

"John!" Matt shouts, drawing his attention.

Jack has been through a lot of things in his time with the C.I.A. Hell, Jack's been through a lot of things in general, but facing the full wrath of John McClane was never one of those things. Normally, he could've handled it – probably could've given just as well as he got – but today he was not ready for it. Today there were too many gaping wounds, both physical and otherwise, and he nearly cries when Matt steps up to save the day.

John looks to his husband, fury evident. "John, what is going on?" Matt demands.

"His mission was to find a mole. Which he said he did. Apparently, that was a lie, though," John rants.

Matt lets the information sink in, mind going a mile-a-minute as he processes. "He's bait, to see who in the states was the mole."

"Bingo. And now-" John agrees sardonically.

"Whoever is the mole is coming here," Matt finishes. "Why would he come here, why not a safe house, or, or-"

Jack may be a lot of things but one of those things is a trained C.I.A. operative. He takes the moment here to pause; to remind himself that there were reasons that he came here. He needs help, and he couldn't trust his own people. He scolds himself for having let things get personal: This is a mission, and the mission isn't over yet. He sucks in a breath, wrapping an arm around his waist, and buries anything that isn't mission-oriented focus.

"Because the C.I.A. doesn't have a lot of safe-houses in the U.S. and even if they did, they'd be known targets," he answers Matt before pulling himself up.

"I left a trail on my way here. It's not easy to follow, but clearly it's possible. I need to know who followed it," Jack says, eyes directed at Matt.

"You need the N.S.A. to follow it," Matt states, tone indicating how unhappy he is with the situation.

"I don't give a shit if you're N.S.A., F.B.I., or fucking N.A.S.A. I need a guy with computer skills who I know isn't an operative for a drug cartel. You fit the bill. I need a guy who can help make sure we don't all end up dead before this is over, and he met those qualifications," Jack says, nodding towards John but never dropping eye contact with Matt.

"So, what Jack, you put your whole fucking family in danger for one lousy mission?" John exclaims.

Matt is surprised with how fast Jack is able to move, swinging to face John and completely in his face. "I hadn't even talked to you in years before Russia, John. Now you can help me because you're a cop, or you can help me because your husband's in danger, but don't think for a second that I ever expected you to help me because I'm your son," Jack growls, voice coated in venom.

One of the things that Jack had learned well before the C.I.A. ever took interest in him was how to hurt people before they hurt you, and how to make sure no one can ever get close enough to hurt you just in case.

Matt stares at Jack. The Jack that was nearly unconscious on the floor a few minutes ago is not the same Jack that's staring down John McClane. That Jack was the son that just wanted to have a father tell him everything would be ok. This Jack isn't C.I.A. agent Jack – it's the Jack that spent years on the other side of the country with no father to run to. That's a feeling Matt happens to be particularly familiar with.

"Ok," Matt says quietly.

"What?! Ok what?" John yells incredulously.

"He needs our help. We help him," Matt shrugs.

Jack turns inquisitive eyes on the other man before nodding in appreciation. He doesn't know exactly what prompted the change in attitude but he's not in any position to be looking gift horses in the mouth.

"Fantastic. Just fantastic. So, Jack, what's the plan?" John asks.

Jack pulls a flash drive out of his pocket, handing it to Matt, "This has everything."

Matt takes the flash drive, looking between the two McClanes in his living room. "It would be better if we didn't do this here," he says.

"Oh yeah, and where would you propose we go?" John asks, annoyed that Matt is going along so easily, but nowhere near as annoyed as he is when Matt shrugs in a way that can only mean one place.

DHDHDHDHDH

"Freddie! Your friends are here!"

"Thanks Mrs. Kaludis – we'll just meet him downstairs," Matt assures, heading towards the basement.

"Hey, what the hell man?!" Freddie yells when three men burst into the basement door. "Aww, again with the cop?" Freddie whines upon seeing John McClane follow Matt into the door. "And another one?!" he nearly yells in impotent frustration.

"Warlock, we're not here as law enforcement, but we do need to use your set-up," Matt says, side-stepping his friend. Matt and Warlock had stayed friends after the Fire Sale, and Freddie had warmed up to John somewhat, but that didn't mean that either one of them actually wanted to see the other.

"Nope, Nuh uh, no way," Freddie says, crossing his arms.

"Hey what does this do?" John asks, antagonizing smirk on his face as he holds up a wire. Jack looks between the trio, recognizing that John is stalling long enough for Matt to sneak over to one of the computers.

"No, no! Don't touch that!" Warlock yells. Jack rolls his eyes in response to John's tactics.

"Don't bother yelling, he doesn't listen anyway," Jack commiserates with Freddie.

"Oh that is rich-" John starts to respond.

Matt tunes everyone out, focusing on the task at hand. The ride over had been one of the most unpleasant car rides he's ever been in, and that was saying something. Jack had done fairly well at avoiding John's jabber, which Matt would normally attest to having gotten used to John, but in this case he thought that maybe Jack was just conserving his energy.

"I'm in," Matt says, earning the attention of everyone.

"What do you see?" Jack asks, stepping forward. He hisses at the motion, nearly jumping back onto his other leg in automatic response.

Matt turns, appraising Jack's response and giving him a second to regain composure.

"Hey, you need a seat or something?" Freddie is startled to find himself saying.

"I'm good, thanks," Jack responds, voice tight but sincere.

"Looks like there were three people that checked up on you. Taylor?" Matt asks, sorting through information.

"He's with Rick," Jack responds.

"Does he know?" John asks, continuing at Jack's questioning look. "The guy who stopped by with the commendation – does he know the mission isn't over yet?"

"No," Jack answers succinctly.

"Mike," Matt mutters, already having written that name off.

"Unlikely," Jack confirms.

"The other guys on your team don't even know?" John asks accusingly.

"Well, since they're the ones we're investigating, no, John. They didn't. There are a grand total of 3 people that know about this mission," Jack explains.

"Oh yeah, and where the hell are the other two?" John taunts.

"Making sure that if I'm compromised, the whole thing isn't," Jack responds coldly.

"And….Thompson?" Matt gets to the final name, pulling up their employee files.

"Thompson? As in Steve Thompson?" Jack questions.

"The one and only. He's an analyst, degree from MIT, previous assignments in Lebanon, Nigeria, and Columbia," Matt mutters, absorbing the information just as much as sharing it.

"Who was his partner in Columbia?" Jack asks.

"Uh, let's see… Looks like it was 8 years ago. Anthony?" Matt answers, turning to Jack.

"Shit," is Jack's response.

"Let me guess – that was the mole?" Matt verifies.

"I didn't know they even knew each other before this mission," Jack answers. "Can get eyes on him?" Jack asks.

"Already on it," Matt says.

"No, try this," Freddie interjects as he sees Matt taking the long way around a hack.

Matt smiles at his friend, enjoying the moment of two friends hacking street cameras, just like the old days.

"I like that code," Matt offers.

"Saves time," Freddie answers. "And the faster you get this done, the faster these guys can get out of my lair," Freddie says, smile belaying his words.

John smiles at their antics. He and Freddie may not always get along, but seeing Matt happy made John happy. John nearly rolls his eyes at the thought.

The downside of visiting Freddie, aside from visiting Freddie, is that there are a lot of rules. "Don't touch that" and "don't sit there" are statements that John is familiar with in this setting. So, he tries to keep himself quietly distracted, telling himself it's just like being on a stakeout.

"Here, I'll take over cameras," Freddie interjects.

"Good – I've got bank records," Matt agrees.

John turns to check on Jack. Jack is blinking slowly, leaning against a pillar in the basement. His arms are slowly relaxing, even as he remains standing on one foot.

"Freddie, we're taking over your futon," John decides.

Freddie turns to disagree, but sees Jack blinking himself awake and decides to just nod in agreement.

"There's coke in the fridge there if you want any," Freddie offers.

John approaches Jack who's giving him a questioning look.

"Come on," he says, placing a hand on Jack's back and steering him towards the futon in the corner.

Seeing Jack begin to protest John explains, "There's nothing we can do while they do their tech stuff."

Jack all but collapses onto the futon, putting his head in his hands as the world spins.

"Lift your leg," John says, pulling a box over to prop Jack's foot on.

Jack begrudgingly does so, but immediately regrets it when John starts to untie his shoe.

"What are you doing?" Jack asks, voice hard.

"You're limping," John responds.

"What do you care?" Jack counters.

John pulls the shoe off as gently as he can. He runs a hand over his head, sighing, "Because you're my kid, alright?"

Jack rolls his eyes.

"Look, what do you want me to say here? You made a call, and while I disagree with it there's not exactly a lot I can do about it at this exact moment."

"Well I'm sorry taking down an international trafficker is inconvenient for you," Jack retorts.

"It's not…I just wished you'd called first alright?" John tries.

"Why? So you could say no over the phone without the hassle of having to do it face-to-face?" Jack spits.

"Jesus, kid. What is your deal? You basically invited dirty agents to my home. You gave no warning, but we still dropped everything. We're helping you. Here we are, in Freddie's basement, helping you. Sorry if we're not doing it cheerfully enough for you," John mutters, pulling off Jack's sock with more aggression than was strictly necessary.

He regrets the action as Jack sucks in a breath.

John takes a moment to look at Jack's foot. There's cuts covering the entire bottom, glass and pebbles glued to the skin with blood.

"I climbed out a broken window," Jack offers by way of explanation.

"You never heard of shoes?" John responds.

"Lost it," Jack shrugs. There had been an explosion in his escape, and his shoe had been blown clear off. Truthfully at the time he had just been happy to still have one shoe.

"Lost it," John mutters quietly. "We're gonna need to clear it out," John states, louder.

"Figured. I just haven't had time yet," Jack explains.

"Why didn't you have the doctors or whoever look at it when they bandaged the rest of you up?" John asks, curious.

"Truthfully I kind of forgot about it. It was wrapped, there were bigger issues, we were in a hurry…." Jack answers with a shrug. He takes his hand, rubbing at his knee as if that will help his foot.

"I'm gonna grab the first aid kit, I'll be right back," John says, pushing himself off the floor.

Matt turns when he sees John stand.

"I'll be right back," John says, receiving a nod of confirmation from Matt.

Matt turns back to the screen, occasionally throwing a glance to check on Jack.

"What happened to him?" Freddie asks, nodding towards the man now passed out on his futon.

Matt smirks, "That depends, do you really want to know?"

Freddie thinks it over, "Am I going to like the answer?"

"It's worse than John being a cop. Potentially even worse than me being NSA," Matt explains.

Freddie's eyes bug out, horrified at the prospect. He looks to Jack again before returning to his task, "Nope. Don't tell me."

"Probably the best choice," Matt says, patting Freddie on the back.

"We almost done here?" John asks, entering the basement.

"Just about," Matt confirms just as John's cell phone rings.

"Go for McClane," he answers, setting the first aid kit down on the floor and searching for a pair of tweezers.

"Put the kid on the phone."

John freezes, waiving at Matt and gesturing at his phone. Matt nods in understanding, quietly directing Freddie to trace the call.

"Well, we have this rule about the kids not talking to strangers," John says, stalling for time.

"You can put him on the phone, or I can blow up your home. Your call," Anthony responds.

It doesn't take long for John to remember that his home is actually a three-story walk-up that's sandwiched between two other units. The likelihood of the bombs just destroying his home are minimal.

"Alright, alright. Hold on," John says. Matt comes over to John, taking the cell phone and placing the call on mute.

"What does he want?" Matt asks.

"To talk to Jack," John answers. "How's the trace coming?"

"Slowly – we have to back-trace it," Freddie answers.

John looks to Matt, head cocked to the side in question.

"We need all the time you can get," Matt clarifies.

John nods, heading towards the futon.

"Jack," John says, giving his son a slight shake. "I think he's got a fever or something," John says to Matt.

"Jack, come on, wake up," John continues, slowly rousing the exhausted man.

"Dad?" Jack asks, sleepy eyes blinking owlishly.

"I'm getting tired of waiting," John hears from the phone. He waves the device in front of Matt so the younger man can un-mute it, before he places it between his ear and his shoulder.

"Hold on, he's right here," he says, placing the phone in Jack's hand.

"Well Jack, I gotta admit, I didn't think you had it in you," Anthony starts.

It takes a minute for him to recognize the voice, but John can tell when he figures it out because Jack turns a startled look to him. John gestures for him to talk into the phone.

"Right back at ya," Jack says. Matt is pleased to hear that his voice is strong even though he's taking short, shallow breaths.

"That plan had been in motion for years, son," Steve continues.

"Wow. You'd think after that long it would've sucked less," Jack counters.

"Truthfully, it was fun. You know, I was going to need a way to take out Anthony, and you took care of that. I needed a way to get the money out of Venezuela, and your partner took care of that. I figured that when we tortured the two of you that you would be the one to tap out first, so you surprised me there, kid."

"You escaping wasn't exactly ideal, but it gave me an easy excuse to leave the country. After taking out my competition of course," Steve proceeds.

"Of course," Jack shrugs. He's stalling for time, but he's not sure how much time he can manage. He completed his mission in Venezuela, which included investigation, going under-cover, being captured and tortured, escaping, and all of that was before he had to deal with John McClane. Jack is understandably tired.

Matt notices Jack's hands are starting to shake, so he takes the phone from Jack, placing it on speaker and setting it down on top of the futon by Jack's head. Jack drops his arm gratefully. His arms spent quite a bit of time strung above his head recently, and any action seems to irritate them.

"Now, though, the fun is over. You're the loose end Jack. I've spent 8 years planning this operation, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let some gung-ho agent tear it all down because he decided to grow a conscience," Steve rails.

"I've given my life to this agency and what have they done? Cut pensions. Cut insurance options. I can't afford my wife's medications, Jack. The only thing standing between me and a quiet retirement on an island is you, and that's not a place you want to be boy."

"The payout was $30 million, and you're _happy_ that I killed your partner so you didn't have to share?" Jack asks, appalled.

John and Matt share a glance, happy that Jack is focusing on the important parts instead of being drawn in to Steve's story.

"I got him," comes Freddie's reply.

Matt runs to the computer, immediately placing a call to his supervisor. Jack waves Freddie over, writing down a name and number for him to call as well.

"Oh like he deserved it. He wasn't just an arrogant slouch, but he was a stupid arrogant slouch," Steve declares vituperatively.

"Units are heading there now," Matt comes over to tell John.

John can see Freddie still on the phone, explaining to whomever Jack had wanted called that Jack's still on the phone.

"So what, you just thought you'd call and see if I'd hand myself over to you?" Jack asks.

"Well, first I was going to offer you money and then kill you at the drop site. Now your whole family is involved and I don't have the kind of time it will take to take you all out. Instead, I'll just wire you money and in exchange you keep quiet. If you break that contract, though, everyone dies. You hear me? Your father, your mother, your sister – everyone," Steve growls.

Freddie turns to give Jack a thumbs up, and the man nods in response.

"Well Steve, there's just one problem with this plan," Jack hedges.

"And what's that?" Steve questions, arrogance coloring his tone.

"You're under arrest you stupid fuck," Jack responds.

Steve's laugh is abruptly cut off and Jack hears the sound of a door being kicked in, yelling, and glass shattering.

Jack sighs, letting the phone slide down the cushion of the futon, just in time for Matt to hand him another phone.

"Isaac?" Jack asks, hearing a muttered affirmative on the other end.

"We got him, Jack," Isaac continues.

"You gonna tell Smith?" Jack questions.

"Already did. He's placing a call to Bill's staff now. It's over, Jack. It's over," Isaac confirms.

Jack releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Seeing his son breathe a sigh of relief, John takes that as his cue. He grabs the phone, earning a curious look from glazed eyes. "This is John McClane, who am I talking to?"

"Uh, Isaac. I'm Jack's partner, and can I just say how much we appreciate-"

"First of all, you can take your appreciation and shove it up your-" John starts, gesturing in frustration when Matt snatches the phone away from him.

"Uh, hi, this is Matt McClane and I think what John's trying to ask is whether or not this mission is complete?" Matt asks, taking steps backwards to ensure an arm's length of space between him and John.

"The mission is complete and the bomb squad has cleared your home," Isaac answers with a smile.

"Excellent. Uh, thanks," Matt responds before hanging up the phone.

"What John was trying to say?! John is capable of saying it himself, thank you very much," John says, irritated when Matt just smiles.

"Yes, you can," Matt answers agreeably, earning a grumble from his husband.

John huffs in acceptance, wrapping Matt in a hug when the younger man steps forward. They stay like that for a moment, just appreciating the closeness. Matt laughs quietly, earning a quiet "what?" from John.

Matt shakes his head still laughing, "Nothing, it's just….This didn't turn out to be nearly as big of a cluster as I expected."

John stares at Matt as if he's grown a second head, and Jack chuckles quietly from his spot on the futon. His eyes are barely open and the thought of movement hurts, but Matt does have a point in a way.

"What?" John asks incredulously.

"It's just…Like sure things weren't perfect, but you know…Nothing actually blew up…" Matt tries to explain, a wide smile tugging on his lips now.

"What he's trying to say, John, is that there was a plan," Jack agrees, wearing a smile of his own.

John shakes his head, chuckling quietly. "Unbelievable. You two are unbelievable. And someone needs to explain to you what a plan looks like," he says, pointing at Jack good-naturedly.

"What? This was a perfectly good plan," Jack defends.

"I mean, he has a point. The bad guys were caught, no one died, nothing was blown up. This is infinitely better than, like, any of your plans," Matt agrees cheerfully.

"No, nuh-uh, no ganging up on me," John laughs, looking between his husband and his son.

"All we're saying is-" Matt starts.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah – I know exactly what you're saying. Now come on," John responds, heading over to Jack. "You know how cranky the kids get when they don't get their nap," John teases.

Jack would grumble if he wasn't so tired.

DHDHDHDHDH

"You want to come with us or take you to a hotel? You gotta check in anywhere or anything?" John asks in the car.

"Uh, I mean, I don't have like an office I need to check in with if that's what you're asking," Jack answers vaguely. He's still not entirely comfortable with the idea of staying with John and Matt, but he figures a few days wouldn't hurt.

"So you're staying with us then," Matt states, earning a smile from both McClanes.

A few minutes later, John is pulling the car into their driveway.

Matt jumps out and heads towards the door, "You help him, and I'll clear out the guest room."

John walks to Jack's side of the car before the words really sink in, "No – wait – the computers do not get to stay in the living room! This is temporary!"

"Yes, dear!" Matt shouts back, earning a smirk from Jack.

John serves as the crutch as he and Jack hobble into the home. John groans, seeing all of the tech materials spread across his living room.

"Temporary!" John reiterates to his husband.

"You sure you don't need a hospital?" John asks as he helps get Jack situated in the room.

"Matt seems more than capable," Jack assures, moaning as he leans back against the fluffy pillows.

"Yeah, he is," John agrees with a smile as Jack wiggles to get comfortable.

"You gonna disappear for another two years after this?" the elder McClane can't stop himself from asking. His brow furrows when Jack tenses at the question.

Jack is nearly asleep when he hears the question. He takes a breath, facing his father, "I won't have a new mission for at least a month. I'll have to go in the office eventually and do some paperwork, but otherwise…."

"You gonna stick around here the whole time?" John asks hesitantly.

"We'd probably kill each other," Jack mutters, scrubbing a hand across his tired face.

"Nah, Matt wouldn't let it get that far," John responds, nodding towards the living room.

Jack tries to smile, but it must come out forced if John's answering huff is anything to go by. "Don't just disappear tomorrow, ok?" John offers, trying to meet Jack halfway.

"I know….I know I haven't always been there for you, but…" John begins, turning away as if actually looking for the right words to say.

"I'll stay for the week and we'll go from there: How about that?" Jack asks, extending an olive branch of his own.

"That sounds good," John agrees with small smile.

Jack nods, waving John's hand away when it goes to ruffle his hair.

"Just holler if you need anything," John says as he steps out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.

"So? Is he staying?" Matt asks immediately.

"A week-long trial period," John answers and Matt can tell by the fondness in his voice that John is pleased with that.

"Excellent. Now you can call Lucy and tell her what happened," Matt teases.

"What? Me? Why do I have to call her?" John asks with feigned indignation.

"She's your daughter, and no way am I explaining the fact that Jack has been in town for 2 days without us texting her," Matt justifies.

"Ha! You have to tell her – she'll know why I didn't text her," John says proudly.

"You really are the worst texter," Matt agrees.

"My thumbs are too big," John answers sagely.

"Yeah, sure, we'll go with that," Matt says with an eye-roll.

"Great. So you're calling Lucy, and I'll call for take-out," John confirms smugly.

"With extra eggrolls," Matt confirms, eyes narrowed.

"With extra eggrolls," John acquiesces.

"Deal," Matt agrees, giving a quick kiss to John before going to grab his phone off of the charger.

John smiles, shaking his head at the tech gear that has taken over his living room and kitchen. The smile turns into a frown as he looks towards the guest room. He and Jack still have quite a bit to work out.

"Hey," Matt says, getting John's attention. "He came to you, John. He's here. Whatever else….He's here now," Matt states as he walks up to his husband.

John frowns harder.

"What?" Matt asks.

"I'm still pissed at him," John responds, irritated with himself and the situation.

"For coming here?" Matt clarifies and John nods in response.

"It's like he said: He trusts you, John. Enough to keep both of us safe," Matt says, gently cupping John's cheek.

"What if he had been wrong? What if this little plan didn't work out the way it was supposed to? What if they had just blown us up instead of –"

"Oh my gosh this is too cute," Matt says with a beaming smile.

"What?" John asks, shocked.

"Is this what I look like? Is that why you tolerate me? Because you're rambling and it is the cutest thing I've ever seen," Matt responds.

"Shut up, I'm not rambling," John retorts.

"Oh no, I'm the king of rambling and you my friend were definitely just rambling, and it was adorable," Matt answers.

"I'm just-" John starts.

"Nervous, I get it. Believe me, I get it," Matt assures. "If it's any consolation, he seemed equally pissed at you."

"Well….I probably deserve some of that," John mutters in agreement.

"Look, I don't know what the two of you have going on. What I do know, is that kid needed help and he came to his NYPD detective dad and NSA stepdad, who helped him save the day. Now, that kid is taking a much-needed nap in our spare bedroom and if he's anything like his father he's going to want to eat after he wakes up," Matt teases gently.

"You're saying I should get over it," John surmises.

"No, I'm saying that you two have a lot of shit to deal with, and that I'm starving," Matt states as if this was obvious.

John shakes his head as he fights a smile. "Chinese food?" he confirms.

"Extra egg rolls," Matt says with a nod before pulling his husband in for a kiss.

"Extra egg rolls," John repeats breathlessly as he goes to the kitchen to find the menu.


End file.
